Lock Box
by kingshammer
Summary: A series of one shots that deal with various unasked and unanswered questions throughout the show. Some are tags to specific episodes and some are simply set in the season. Please R&R! UPDATED: TAG TO OBSESSION.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Hello there. This is just a one shot I've had on my mind for a while, based on my own observations of Season 6 episode "Agent Afloat". No real spoilers, so fear not.

Let me know what you think. All reviews (good or bad) are welcome.

Disclaimer: I definitely don't own NCIS. At all. No really, I'm telling the truth.

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"Damn it!" Shouted Tony. He lifted his now bleeding finger to his mouth. He'd been trying pry open the locked door with a shard of metal.

"Come and sit down Tony." Said Ziva tiredly. Tony dropped the shard and went to sit by Ziva, still sucking on his finger.

Tony and Ziva had been sent to apprehend a suspect. They now suspected that he actually was responsible for the rape and murder he was accused of. The body of the female petty officer was discovered in the basement of Norfolk research lab. The case was fairly open and shut: their perp had left the murder weapon at the scene-a knife- his bloody fingerprints around the handle. Abby had run the prints through AFIS and the name of three time sex offender Henry Phillips- a janitor in the building- had popped up. The man hadn't shown up to work and wasn't answering his home phone. So team Gibbs split up: McGee and Gibbs to the house and Tony and Ziva to Norfolk.

It turned out that Tony and Ziva struck gold. The only problem was, once their guy spotted them, he took off like a rabbit. Being the fearless NCIS agents they were, Tony and Ziva gave chase, following him into an old, subterranean bunker used for housing weapons. They'd chased him into the darkness of the bunker. However, much to their disadvantage their rapist turned murderer was ready; once Tony

and Ziva were far in, he let loose a hail of bullets from what Ziva recognized as a medium sized Uzi.

Doing the natural thing, Tony and Ziva ducked for cover, shooting their service weapons as they went. They moved to an open store room on their right, however, not before Ziva took a bullet to the thigh. She went down with a grunt, still firing her weapon, crawling to the door. Tony, realizing what was happening, grabbed her by her wind breaker and dragged her through the door. Once they were, in he returned to the door, but had to duck back in as a fresh peal if bullets rained out, this time from a military issue M - 16. Tony pulled the door in, leaving it slightly ajar. His intention was to listen for a break in the gunfire and then return fire. He never got the chance. Taking advantage of the darkness in the bunker, their perp had run up and with speed Tony had previously doubted possible, closed the door and locked it from the outside.

Swearing at their luck, Tony turn his attention back to Ziva. She'd propped herself against a wall, her hands over the wound on her leg. Her breathing was slightly labored, and while she would never admit to it, the pain she was in shone through her eyes.

Tony rushed to her dropping to his knees and pulling off his wind breaker.

"You okay?" He asked, knowing the question was stupid but needing to ask it anyway.

"I don't think it hit anything important." Was her response

Tony rolled his eyes in response unbuckling his belt.

"Um, Tony? What are you doing"? She asked, momentarily distracted. Tony just tugged on the buckle exposing his belt knife.

"Ah i see. You could have asked for mine." She said as he began to cut the cloth away from the wound. Ziva gritted her teeth but kept silent.

"'What and endure your never ending quips about my lack of preparedness? No ma'am, I don't think so. Besides, this knife has saved my butt more times than I can count. It's good luck." he smirked at her glare and returned his attention to her leg.

"It looks like the bullet went through and through. Let's get this patched up." Tony wadded some of his ripped jacket and placed it to the entry and exit wounds. With longer strips, tied the wads in place. Ziva let out a groan of pain, her hands forming fists the knuckles white.

"Sorry," said Tony, truly empathizing for his partner. He finished wrapping and stood to his feet, pulling out his cell phone. To his dismay, there were no bars. Looking around the room anxiously, he noticed there was no window. He walked around trying to find a signal, but was disappointed. He swore under his breath and cast a glance at Ziva, who was leaning against the wall, eying her partner. Tony sighed and went to sit next to her.

"No signal," he reported grumpily.

"Figures," muttered Ziva. Tony took off his ball cap, and scratched his head, looking at the door.

"I'm gonna try to get that sucker open," he started to stand up when Ziva grabbed his wrist, preventing him from standing.

"Not yet. You do not know if our bad guy is waiting at the door to finish us off. I suggest we lay short." she said.

"Lay low,Ziva, not short." he responded, but indeed settling on the floor. They stayed that was for almost an hour when Tony tried to open the door. After about a three minute examination, he set to work trying to find something to pry it open. Hence the metal shard and hence the cut finger.

Feeling slightly defeated, Tony sat next to Ziva dejectedly. She was paler than before and her breathing was slightly hitched, but she tried to ignore it, addressing Tony instead.

"Let me see your finger." Tony held out his hand. Ziva took examining his wound with expert eyes. Considering the she was the one who was shot, Tony felt somewhat embarrassed.

"It's no big deal Zee," he protested mildly.

"And what if I wish to hold your hand DiNozzo?" she replied pretending to be offended. Tony grinned at the teasing in her voice.

"Well you could have just asked Ziva." he said.

"What, and give you an ego jump?" she responded, still teasing. Despite their banter, Ziva was in fact focusing on the cut on Tony's finger. She pulled out a Band Aid from her wind breaker and carefully applied it to Tony's finger.

"For the record, it's an ego boost not a jump. And not that I'm complaining, but why do you have Band Aids in your pocket?" he asked, genuinely curious. Ziva eyed him contemplatively before speaking.

"It is nothing truly significant. I was opening a package and I slipped. I cut my finger. That day, we got a case. I put my extra Band Aids in my jacket in case I needed them." Tony had his jokers face on, a huge grin plastered on his face.

"I can't believe it. The great Ziva "Knives- don't- run- out- bullets" David accidentally cut herself." Tony chuckled to him self. Ziva rolled her eyes.

"I assure you Tony, that was not the first time, nor shall it be the last." she replied wearily, Leaning her back against the wall. She involuntarily shivered.

"You cold?" asked Tony.

"A little," admitted Ziva. It was December and their little subterranean storage room was cold. Not to mention that the blood loss probably contributed to her shivers.

"Scoot forward," he said. Rather than argue, Ziva moved forward careful not to jostle her aching leg. Tony moved to sit behind her, her back leaning into his chest. She was surprised and oddly comforted by how comfortable she felt with his arms wrapped around her.

"Just for body heat you know?" he said, half teasing voice, his breath brushing her ear. Ziva shivered again, this time from Tony's proximity and his breath on her neck. Rather than question, he just held her tighter.

Tony held her in silence for a while before speaking.

"When I was a kid, when I used to hang out with my wonderfully English cousins, we used to play a game. We called it Lock Box. Basically, we had to play in a small room or a closet and the idea was that we would take turns asking each other questions. There were two rules: Answer honestly and the answers stay in that room no matter what, hence Lock Box. Do you want to play?" he asked arching an eyebrow.

Ziva thought the proposition over. It was enticing, to see DiNozzo barring a small portion of his soul.

However, the idea of what he could potentially ask was slightly overwhelming. Ziva had many unpleasant things in her life any of which Tony would be free to ask of. Still, the closeness of the room and the innocence of his suggestion spurred her on.

"Stays in this room yes?" she asked again. She felt Tony nod his head. "Alright. then I go first." she said smugly. Her tone of voice was a front though; she knew what she wanted to ask, but was unsure if she was venturing into dangerous waters. Scratch that, she knew she was venturing into dangerous waters, she didn't know if he'd let her.

"Alright. Ask away." he said confidently.

"Why...why did you never go back to Jeanne?" she asked her voice quiet. Tony's arms stiffened at the name, but relaxed again.

"Well, it's simple really. Funny how I can say that now; it felt a lot harder then. You see, she wanted me to choose, between her and NCIS. Between Tony DiNardo and Anthony DiNozzo. When I sat there, in that couple's home, next to that fire, I looked between you guys and Jeanne's letter. You remember the case. I was sopping wet, and McGee made the fire pop on. Well, sitting there watching you all laugh and smile, and allowing me to be included in all that, I decided that I couldn't leave. I couldn't leave you. McGee, Gibbs, Ducky. Abby would have killed me if I tried. You guys are my family. Jeanne was in love with a man I could never be. A man I never was. I loved the idea of loving her, of having that picture perfect life. But, I decided I'd rather have my not so perfect life and share it with my team than be with Jeanne, knowing I'd left a good thing. Besides, Jeanne and I would have never worked out. She wanted a professor. I see myself more as a gun slinging cowboy." he finished. Ziva chuckled, glad to see he was still amicable and able to joke. His answer made her smile.

"I see you more as the television remote slinging couch tomato." she replied jokingly.

"Har Har. It's potato by the way." replied sarcastically. "Alright, my turn. So, you remember back a couple a months ago, end of the summer, when you and Gibbs came onto the _Seahawk_?" Ziva nodded. "You seemed...I dunno, unduly frazzled. I'd never seen you jump or wince so much as you did at the sound of the jets landing. I've been meaning to ask you about that." Ziva let out a slow breath. Her mind was suddenly filled with loud memories of bullets flying, people shouting, bombs exploding and most notably, the jet streaming above. She forced herself to relax, knowing that there was no other way she would be able to get the whole story out.

"Of course you would ask a hard question Tony." she admonished lightly. Tony just shrugged.

"You started it," he replied simply.

"I did. Well, if you must know, the sound of jets flying terrifies me. It does not bother me when they are far away, but when they are so close." she shuddered in her pause, her memories still raging in her head. Tony dropped his chin the her shoulder, a simple sign of support.

"It was my second battle in the IDF. I was twenty one years old. My first battle was barely a skirmish. This was much more serious. There was a disturbance around Jerusalem. A group of Palestinian renegades were causing trouble. Small fights were erupting inside and out side of the city. The conflict just continued to grow. We received intelligence that this Palestinian renegade group would send reinforcements into the city. To protect the peace, my unit, about fifty of us, were sent to stop them. That alone should have been enough. But it was not. We caught the intruding group of about thirty before the reached the city. The fighting was brutal. They pushed us back towards the city. That was when the city group came and attacked us from behind. We were sandwiched between two hostile groups. It was bad, Tony. I lost some very good friends that day. Anyway, someone must have radioed in that we were in trouble. They sent a jet as reinforcement. The jet flew low to the ground. By then, the sound was deafening. Then it dropped a bomb. I learned later that so many of us were downed that the powers that be decided it was more practical to use a bomb to stop the conflict. I was caught on the outer fringes of the blast. I don't remember much of the actual bomb, but when I came to, I was in a devastated building on the outskirts of the city where we'd been fighting. Long story short, I made it back to headquarters. Ever since, though, the sound of a low flying jet makes me nervous. I expect a bomb to drop out of it." she finished. Tony was rubbing small circles into her shoulder with his thumb.

"How bad were you hurt?" he asked after a while.

"I had plenty of scrapes and bruises. I had taken a stab to the arm in the fighting. I got a broken wrist from the bomb." she responded.

"Wow." said Tony, his voice soft. "You're a tough chick David. You went into Mossad after all that?"

"Of course. Loyalty to Israel precedes all else. What is the old saying? Give me freedom or give me death." she said.

"Give me liberty or give me death. Same difference though. Good ole Patrick Henry." They sat like that a little while longer. After a while though, Ziva leaned forward feeling dizzy. Tony laid a hand on her cheek. It was quite warm.

"You're starting to burn up Zee," he said, worrying about her wound and the possibility of infection.

"We need to get out of here." she said studying the door. She'd had enough gunshot wounds to know that if they didn't get out soon, she'd only get worse.

"That's true, but we can't get the door open." he said feeling stupid for stating the obvious, without any reasonable solution.

"Help me up, I have an idea." Tony stood from behind her and came in front, looking unsure. Ziva merely extended her hands to him. He pulled her up, catching her as her leg refused to support any weight. She swore in Hebrew, wrapping her arm around Tony's neck. Tony held her by the waist and helped her get to the door. She tapped the metal plate where the lock would have been, listening for the different sounds. She seemed to find what she was looking for and straightened up.

"There is good news and bad news. Good news is that I can possibly blow the lock open from this side. Bad news is that if I am off in my shot at all, I can make the door unopenable." Tony sighed, frustrated.

"Life can't be easy, huh? Well, we gotta try it. We need to get you out of here." Ziva drew her gun, tapping the door again. After another moment, she placed her gun to the plate. Her teeth gritted in anticipation, she squeezed the trigger.

The recoil was startling at that proximity and the sound deafening after their previous silence.

But the door swung open.

Tony grinned like a fool. Holding Ziva firmly with one hand and his gun with the other, they slowly exited the room. It was darker than before, the sun having gone down. No sign of their perp.

"Let's go," said Tony. They exited the bunker into the cold night air. Ziva found the fresh air a welcome relief from the confines of their storage room. They were barely outside more than a minute when a headlights appeared around a corner, hurtling in their direction. Instinctively, Tony and Ziva drew weapons, retreating slightly, at least until the car came to a stop and Gibbs emerged.

"Boss! It's good to see you." said Tony, flashing a famous grin.

"Good my ass, DiNozzo. We've been looking for you two for hours. What happened?" answered their gruff leader. He was glad to see them, but the worry was evident on his face as he approached them. The sight of Tony supporting Ziva did not exactly bode well.

"I'd love to fill you in, Boss, but Ziva needs an ambulance first." replied Tony more seriously. Ziva, looked up, giving her best attempt at a glare, which really wasn't all that good. Gibbs yelled at McGee to call 911.

"We do not need...an ambulance. Can we not drive to the hospital without any fanfare?" she asked weakly. Suddenly, the world spun and she slumped in Tony's arms.

"Whoa, easy there." said Tony. He and Gibbs helped lower her to the ground. Ziva shook her head, trying to make the the world stable again.

"She took a bullet to the leg. It went through and through." explained Tony.

"I'm fine," stated Ziva, perhaps too loudly.

"Sure you are Ziver," said Gibbs patting her shoulder and walking to speak with McGee. Tony sat next to her propping her up.

"I do not want an ambulance." she muttered, defiant despite her weakened state.

"It's not about what you want,Zee. It's about McGee, you see. If we took you in the car, blood would be bound to get on the seats. And, being the resident Probie, McGee would be obligated to clean it up. Now, I know we pick on him, super glue his face to his desk, you know, fun, harmless stuff. But, come on, do you really want the poor kid to be stuck cleaning up your blood?" Ziva rolled her eyes at her partner, but offered a small smile nonetheless.

"Fine then. For McGee's health, I will ride the ambulance." she conceded. Tony just grinned.


	2. Chapter 2

Okay, so, because of popular demand, I've added another chapter. So, this will be a series of one shots with an update ever once in a while.

Ch. 2

Tony's feet ached and his knee was killing him. It wasn't cold outside and for that he was grateful. If it were he might have died from heat exhaustion. He tried his best to hide his panting from his partner, who was several strides ahead of him but lost all resolve when his foot caught on a root, sending him careening forward, rolling in the dirt.

"Alright, that's it. We're taking a break." he said, exhausted his breath coming in pants. Ziva just chuckled at her partner. In fact, it had been her idea to jog the six miles back to their car. Tony had agreed and had managed a solid three miles before he'd become strained on the fourth.

"Do you need help sitting up, Tony?" she asked only half serious.

"No, this is just fine. The forest floor is comfortable." he replied. He was sprawled on his back, his arms flung out to the sides. He kept his eyes closed, concentrating on breathing. Ziva sat, her back against the tree whose offending roots had tripped Tony. She looked at him curiously.

"Are you sure you are alright?" she asked, obviously not convinced of his previous answer.

"Zee, I'm fine. Just winded. Y. Pestice lungs and a previously blown out knee can only take so much before they need a rest." Ziva frowned, a tad upset with herself.

"I am sorry Tony. I forgot. You do remarkably well under such conditions." she replied, her voice sincere.

"Ah, don't worry about it. I'll be fine in couple of minutes." he said. He took several deep breaths, enjoying the forest. he was in truth a city boy, but there was something somewhat peaceful about the stillness of the woods that attracted him.

"Lock box?" asked Ziva after a while. She too was enjoying the calm of the forest. Tony thought for a moment but agreed.

"Sure. It's not exactly a small room out here, but we're alone enough. I go first?" he asked, his eyes still closed. Ziva agreed.

"Alright Ziva. I gotta know: what's the story behind the tattoo on the inside of your thigh?" he asked. Ziva just groaned.

"Are you serious Tony? Do you really want to know?" she asked, pouting, hoping he would change his mind.

"Na uh, Ziva. You know the rules: you have to answer." Ziva sighed in frustrated resignation. She picked up a dried leaf from the forest floor and began to tear it apart.

"I got the tattoo right before I completed my mandatory two years with the IDF. You see, I got when I was, well... I should not have been making decisions at the time." Ziva hoped that Tony wouldn't question her, but of course he did.

"Come on Ziva. You can do better. Why shouldn't you have been making decisions?" Tony was smiling now. Ziva sighed again, knowing that he wouldn't let her off.

"I was drunk Tony. Completely and totally wasted. It was me and my four best friends." Tony burst out laughing. Ziva grit her teeth having expected this reaction. What she didn't expect were his words.

"Does that really embarrass you Ziva?" Tony asked, a little bit in disbelief. Ziva blushed a little.

"Well yes Tony. I am the kind of person who does such... Impulsive, stupid things." she said waving her hands around. Tony sat up, leaning back on his elbows.

"Ziva, you're allowed to be young and stupid. You were what, nineteen, twenty? We all did crazy stuff when we were that age. This just proves you haven't always been the quiet, serious, Mossad ninja you think you are." He said, a boyish grin on his face. Ziva rolled her eyes, but smiled a little.

"Do you want to hear the rest of the story?" she asked, already knowing the answer.

"Absolutely. You've yet to explain the significance." he responded, still smiling.

"The five of us got the same thing. The bird outline is an osprey. It is a bird of prey in Israel, found by the coast mainly. We picked for that reason: we were at som desert outpost when suddenly we heard this hunting cry. We looked up and it was the osprey, flying over the desert. It was so strange. We were out on a security patrol and so we followed. We followed it for maybe seven or so minutes before we heard an explosion behind us. A truck drove over an IED buried in the sand. The IED was on the very same route that we would have taken had we not followed the osprey. We saw it as a sign. Hence the tattoo." Tony nodded his head, consider her story.

"You've explained the osprey. What about the sun moon thing behind it?" asked Tony. Ziva was surprised that he remembered so much after so many years but chose not to mention it.

"I was not planning on getting that done. I came home after the IDF for a brief time before I started in the Mossad. I was drying myself off after a shower when Tali happened to burst in. The first thing she noticed was my tattoo. I clamped my hand over her mouth so she could not speak. I told her that I would do anything to buy her silence. You see, we got the tattoos on the inside of our thighs so that no one could see them and report them to our fathers, all aspiring higher ups in the government. When I took my hand away, Tali said that she wanted one too. I said anything, so I agreed. Hey, do not look at me like that!," admonished Ziva. Tony's eyes had gone wide. "She was sixteen! Besides, I was the cool older sister who was indebted. Anyway, we went. The sun and the moon represent eternity: the consistency of time. It meant that we would be sisters-best friends- forever. She...she died that year. Four months later." Ziva's voice grew soft and thick. She didn't cry but rather smiled at the memory of her sister. Tony gently touched her hand.

"Hey, we should get going. I'll answer your question as we walk?" he suggested. Ziva nodded pulling herself to her feet. She reached down to help Tony. As they began walking, Ziva asked her question.

"Tony, why did you become a police officer?" she asked, skipping across the gnarled forest floor with ease. Tony followed, but more carefully.

"Well, a few reasons I suppose. Any career I had in basketball was shot when I blew out my knee. You can't do much with a phys ed major either, except teach. And no way was I going the spend the rest of my life teaching lazy, video game loving kids the right way to hold a basketball. Other than that I dunno, it's hard to say. I didn't get along with dad and well, at the time I didn't want to be anything like him." he answered, really thinking about it.

"But Tony, that cannot be it. Not all of it. You could have done several easier, if less honorable things. Why police work?" se asked. There was no pressure in her words, just curiosity.

"To help people. I was not always the apple of my father's eye, and so when I needed help he was very reluctant to give it. He's selfish Ziva. Everything he does is for personal gain. I was, well, it hurt me a bit. I suppose if I can held other people, maybe I won't hurt as much? I dunno, maybe it's twisted logic." Ziva didn't respond for awhile, concentrating on not falling.

"It is not twisted logic Tony. It is noble. I wish I could say the same for why I entered the Mossad. I never hated it or wanted to leave. There some specific instances when I hated myself for following orders. At least you can say you wanted to be here." Tony nodded to himself as he continued.

"I suppose you're right. I mean, there's been some crappy stuff, all in all there's very little I would change." Ziva didn't have to ask to know that what he would change had to do with the two female J's in his life: Jeanne and Jenny.

"Do you regret much of it Ziva? I mean, I know you said that you regret some stuff. But is it enough to make you unhappy?" asked Tony. Ziva was quiet again, thinking. Tony mistook her silence as discomfort.

"If you don't want to talk about it-" he said apologetically. She cut him off quickly.

"It is not that I do not want to talk about it. I am just thinking. And I think no, I would not change anything. I am happy here." she smiled at him, actually somewhat surprised by her answer. Tony smiled back. Looking he sighed with relief.

"Thank God, we made it back to the car." Ziva just rolled her eyes.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Well, you wanted it, so here it is. I must say, I rather enjoy writing these one shots. Just as a point of reference, this takes place after the Agent Lee mess and before the Micheal Rivkin mess in season 6. I do believe the next installment will take place in season. They'll all still deal with unanswered questions though. I hope you enjoy this installment. Please review!!

The wooden crate above their heads exploded into splinters as merciless bullets smashed into them in quick succession. The spray of flying wood forced Ziva and Tony to duck their heads to protect their eyes as they moved back towards a warehouse, using the multiple crates scattered about as protection.

"Boss, we're on the north side of the complex. Bad guys have opened fire, I repeat opened fire. We're moving into a warehouse for cover." Shouted Tony into the mike at his wrist wilst Ziva returned fire.

"_I copy DiNozzo. Hang tight, McGee and I are headed your way."_

"Zee, I'm gonna blow the handle off that door, then on three, we bolt in, got it?" yelled DiNozzo over the roar over the three sub machine guns pointed their way. The perps were smart: they stayed a distance away lest they become easy targets.

"Negative, Tony! You shoot off the handle then we cannnot lock the door from the inside. Cover me and let me pick the lock." she replied, firing off more rounds.

"No way! You're a sitting duck out there." he responded adamently.

"What do birds have to do with this!?" she roared angrily. Tony rolled his eyes and then through the crates in front of him, saw a propane tank behind their shooters. Taking careful aim, he squeezed his trigger.

The blast was more forceful than Tony had anticipated, but it worked in their favor. The three gunmen were knocked over by the force.

"Go!" shouted Tony to Ziva, indicating to the door. She moved, knowing they only had moments before they would be shot at. Tony stood slightly infront of her, to her left, his gun at the ready. Her brows furrowing in concentration, Ziva worked at the lock.

Then, several things happened at once. The lock clicked open. As Ziva looked up to yell at Tony, two bullets slammed into his chest, pushing him backwards with a yell, putting him next to the doorway. Before Ziva could finish opening the door and grab Tony, a bullet slammed into her lower back. The force pushed her forward, causing her face to smack on the warehouse door. With a growl and ingnoring the pain in her head, Ziva wrenched the door open, grabbed Tony and pulled him inside.

Tony fell to the ground with a thud and some coughing. Ziva just managed to pull the door shut before she too collapsed to the ground. Bullets continued to hammer the building.

"We need to move back," gasped Tony, pain lacing his voice. Ziva flipped over to her stomach and tried to push herself to her feet, but found she couldn't stand. She gasped in pain. Hearing the gunshots coming closer, Tony didn't wait for Ziva to stand: he simply grabbed her arm and together they half limped half crawled to the back of the warehouse, taking up a defensive position beind some crates covered in canvas. Tony sat panting. Ziva tried to get into a seated position next to him, but, as before, a sharp pain shot through her lower back, leveling her to hands and knees.

"Where does it hurt Ziva?" asked Tony seriously. Ziva wanted to give her typical 'I am fine' answer, but the pain was, well, painful.

"Lower back, to the right," she said. Tony patted the ground, indicating for Ziva to lie flat on her stomach. She pulled herself closer to him and did as bid. Ignoring the pain in his chest, Tony leaned forward and pulled the hem of Ziva's NCIS wind breaker. He was grateful to see that the bullet had struck the black Kevlar vest rather than her flesh.

"It's a good thing you had your vest on. Without it, you'd be crippled forever." he said softly. He marveled at how one simple safty measure was the difference between life and death.

"I could say the same for you Tony. You might be dead now." she said. Tony just nodded.

"Help me sit up?" Tony nodded. He pulled Ziva up, her cargos scraping against he dusty concrete floor. She winced and hissed in pain, but regardless, used her legs to help turn her and push herself up. Finally, she and Tony were sitting side by side, both panting slightly. Tiredly, Tony lifted his wrist to his mouth.

"Boss, we're in the warehouse. These guys are still shooting. Ziva and I are hit. Ziva took one in the back, I took two in the chest. Vests took care of us. Where are you?" asked Tony.

_"Tony, we're on our way. Hang tight. These bastards are being difficult." _reponded Gibbs, his voice strong and earnest.

"Ten four". The particular bastards they were after where drug runners accused of murdering two midshipmen for being unfortunate enough to run across their path in Puerto Rico. Team Gibbs had tracked their operation to a small marina in the outer banks. After a few moments of silence, Tony spoke.

"Lock box?" ased Tony. Ziva was rubbing her nose as it was sore from slamming into the door. After a moment she nodded.

"My turn to go first I think?" asked Ziva knowing full well it was. Tony nodded. Ziva sat in thought still rubbing her nose.

"This one is a little more serious Tony. You do not have to answer." Tony looked at her expectantly.

"Why did you not call?" Tony jumped as if zapped by electricity.

"I am sorry, you do not have to answer," said Ziva hastily. Tony shook his head.

"No, no, it's fine. I was just startled." He took a deep breath, trying to organize his thoughts.

"Well, at first I guess I thought that you would be ashamed of me. Embarassed by me. You went back to Mossad, land of the other crazy ninja assassins. I didn't think you'd want to hear from me. That's another thing: I had no clue what to say. I was lonely and bitter, but I didn't know how to say that then. After while though..." Tony paused, unhappy memories flooding his mind. Ziva held his hand, tracing small circle into his palm with her fingers. He took this as a sign of encouragement.

"After awhile, I realized...I realized that I was ashamed of myself. I've been a cop and an NCIS agent for years and...and because I got lazy and stupid, the Director was killed." he said, the real truth finally coming out. Ziva continued tracing her circles.

"It was not your fault. At least, not all of it. I was there too, Tony. And the Director ordered us to leave her alone." she said softly. Tony just shrugged his shoulders and then groaned. Ziva looked at him worridly.

"Machine gun rounds hurt." he said. He paused for a second. "You know, I dialed your number. More times than I can count. But, well, I was a little inebriated each time. I figured you deserved better than a drunk Tony DiNozzo calling you." _I would have taken a drunken Tony on the phone over no Tony at all, _thought Ziva to herself. Before she could respond, however, the door their warehouse burst open and the gunmen spilled in. Tony and Ziva instantly tensed and half jumped to their feet. They failed, but it didn't matter. Two gunmen went down. The other ran toward the back of the warehouse, his submachine gun dropped to the ground, forgotten.

"Freeze, NCIS!" McGee voice reverberated loudly throughout the warehouse; he was waiting for the man at the other side of the warehouse. The gunman froze, his hands shooting into the air. Gibbs entered through the first door, having downed the other men. In moments, McGee had the last gunman frisked and cuffed. Gibbs strode over to Tony and Ziva.

"Do we need an ambulance?" he asked. He was grateful that his agents were okay, but his typical gruff exterior remained in place.

"Please no boss. Just a little bit of ice and we'll be right as rain." Ziva looked at Tony with a confused expression but let the idiom slide.

"Fine. I want you both to go back to NCIS. Leave your vests on. Let Abby take photos before you take them off. They're evidence against this bozo." Tony stifled a groan. They were six hours away from NCIS and the vests were not very comfortable after awhile. Not to mention that he and Ziva would be sporting some very colorful, painful bruises. Tony held his hands out to Gibbs.

"Gimme a hand up?" he said, a toothy grin on his face, fatigue evident around his eyes. Gibbs couldn't help but smirk as he reached down and pulled the younger man to his feet. Tony stood, already feeling sore all over. He reached down to pull Ziva up but found that she could not stand entirely unassisted. Gibbs was concerned as Ziva stumbled into Tony's arms.

"You okay Ziver?" he asked, fatherly worry etched all over his face. Ziva just grimaced and nodded. They both knew Ziva was lying, but rather than call her out, Gibbs let her make the call. If anything was devastatingly wrong, there'd be no way in the world she could stand, with or without help.

"Be sure to ice that. I see either of your faces tomorrow, I'll drag you both out and leave you tied up in my basement." for once, his agents felt too crappy to argue.

_Six hours later, Abby's lab_

"Abby? Abby. Abby!" Abby jerked from her sleep with a snort. She looked around with bleary eyes before she realized Tony and Ziva at the doorway. Suddenly, she was awake as though it were midmorning rather than midnight.

"Oh, I'm so happy to see you guys," she said, moving to hug Tony. Tony hastily held up the hand that wasn't supporting Ziva.

"Abby, if you hug either of us right now, we might pass out from pain," he said, not really sure he was joking. Abby nodded furiously and went to help Ziva sit down.

"Tony, I'm processing you first." declared Abby. Tony raised his head in protest.

"No, look at Ziva first. She took a bullet in the back." he complained. Abby ignored him, towing the sleepy agent to her work table making him sit atop it.

"Your shots are more straight forward Tony, making them faster to deal with, meaning you go first." said Abby, not in a compromising mood. Wearily, Tony lifted his arms while Abby took pictures. Finally, Abby removed his Kevlar.

"Take off your shirt Tony," commanded Abby. Tony actually blushed a little, throwing the briefest of glances at Ziva before looking at Abby.

"Abs, its not necessary." he protested. Abby glared at him.

"Tony DiNozzo. It's twelve thirty in the morning. You've been shot. While you would normally be checked out by our wonderful Dr. Mallard, he's not here, so that task falls to me. So, take off your shirt, or I will take it off for you!" said Abby, her voice getting louder with each word. Ziva chuckled slightly, which she quickly turned into a cough when Abby spun on her.

Seeing Abby was serious, Tony moved to do as did. Abby winced in sympathy. Tony's toned chest sported brilliant shades of purple, blue, and black. Despite his obvious discomfort, Ziva quirked an eyebrow at Tony's physique, not minding her view of him from Abby's desk. Abby handed Tony a tube of ointment and an NCIS t shirt.

"Your hot Tony, but I'm not about to rub anything onto your skin. Apply it now and wear the shirt so the ointment can air. It will help with the pain. Abby watched to make sure that Tony applied enough and pulled on the t shirt.

"Alright, good man. Now, you go to my office. I set up the futon for you earlier. I'll call you when I'm done with Ziva." Tony nodded, sliding off the counter.

"Thanks Abby," he said, kissing her temple. Abby just smiled and shooed him away. She helped Ziva onto the table, and finally after fifteen minutes of photos, Abby helped Ziva take the vest off. Abby was quiet. Suddenly, Ziva felt a surge of pain in her back and in her legs. She yelped and jumped slightly.

"Abby was that really necessary?" she cried.

"You felt that?" asked Abby seriously.

"Yes of course I felt that! Why would I not!?" Ziva was only mildly angry. Though if it were anyone but Abby, she would have retaliated.

"You be grateful you can feel that Ziva David. If you didn't have that vest on, you'd be in wheelchair the rest of your life." Abby was getting worked up and Ziva was curious why. Ignoring the pain in her back for a moment, Ziva turned to look over her shoulder. Abby's eyes welled up with unshed tears. Suddenly, like a ton of bricks, it hit Ziva why Abby was upset. _Kate, _she thought to herself.

"Abby come here, I cannot turn around." Abby did as bid, her head down a little. Ziva put her hands on her friend's shoulders.

"Abby, look at me." she said. Again Abby complied, though slowly.

"Tony and I are fine. I will not say that we did not come close, because we did. But, Gibbs is a good leader and Tony...he is good partner. We do our best to keep each other safe. I hope you take some solace in that." Ziva was trying her very best not to be the stoic warrior Abby had once accused her of being. She knew that wasn't what Abby needed to hear.

"But what happens when your best isn't good enough Ziva. What if you do everything you're supposed to and one of you still ends up dead?" Silent tears were now trailing down Abby's face. Ziva took her into a hug, rubbing her back.

"Abby, I do not know why some things happen the way they do. Danger is part of our job. We just...we have to keep going, keep trying, no matter how bad it gets. Sometimes, that means throwing ourselves in the line of embers. For some reason or another, we are all here, working for a common purpose. If we let fear get in the way, we fail to reach the goal. If that is always going to be the case, what is the point of being here anyway?" Abby was quiet for a moment before she backed away with a chuckle, wiping her eyes.

"What Abby?" ased Ziva, suddenly unsure of Abby's shift in mood.

"You said line of embers. It's line of fire." Ziva rolled her eyes and chuckled as well. Abby gave Ziva mega smile before she went back around the countertop. She rubbed ointment into Ziva back and also had her don an NCIS t shirt.

"You need to go lie down on the futon. You and Tony are not allowed to leave until we're sure there is no permanent damage." said Abby, quirking her eye brow. Ziva rolled her eyes and hopped off the counter. Her legs wobbled and her back ached, but she was able to stand. Doing her best not limp and failing miserably, she went to Abby's back office.

Tony was lying on his back atop the futon. He raised his head as Ziva walked in.

"You okay?" he asked, shifting over. The futon was small and wouldn't do much along the lines of real sleep, but Ziva didn't care. She was exceedingly tired. She sat next to Tony slowly, gingerly lowering herself down. Tony left his arm out straight and Ziva used it as a pillow.

"Yes, I am fine. Well, relatively. No permanent damage." she let out a long slow sigh.

"We came pretty close today, huh?" remarked Tony after awhile.

"We certainly did." she responded, growing sleepy.

"Hey Ziva?" ventured Tony.

"Hmm?" she said, floating between sleep and wakefulness.

"How did you get those rug burns on your knees? You never did tell me." Ziva's eyes shot open. Now she was fully awake.

"I assume you are referring to the ones from three years ago?" she asked, just to be sure.

"Well, yeah, those are the only ones I remember." Ziva let out a bark of laughter.

"That shipping crate was terrible." she said, thinking back to when they were boxed in after a shoot out.

"It was. So come on, where'd the rug burn come from?" he asked again, his voice suggestive.

"It is not nearly as promiscuous as you think Tony. In fact, it is less than G rated."

"Oh yeah? Then tell me. It is still your turn to answer." he said. Ziva finally sighed.

"If you must know, I got them moving furniture around. You see, nothing even remotely interesting."

"You're lying," deadpanned Tony. Her explanation was not nearly as interesting as he was hoping.

"No I am not! There were people over my house that night, how could it be anything else?" Tony sighed, knowing she was right.

"You played it up to be something far more interesting is all." Ziva chuckled.

"Tony, you have to understand: you are too much fun not to mess with sometimes. Take that as a compliment. It just means we trust you to know that you know we are just kidding and do not mean anything serious by it." she said.

"Um, Ziva, I'm tired. I don't think I understand a thing you just said." he said, sounding sincerely confused.

"Tony, it means you are a good sport and that we would never intentionally hurt or lie to you."

"Oh. I guess I could live with that." he let forth a huge yawn.

"I agree. If it makes you feel better, I will give you a free question." muttered Ziva, falling asleep.

"Will you cook dinner for me sometime?" he asked, just this side of sleep.

"Sure. Whatever you want my little hairy butt." She muttered.

Abby poked her head into her office a short while later. She smiled at the sight of her friends, Ziva resting her head on Tony's arm, Tony's head leaning against Ziva's. They looked peaceful. Backing away quietly, she shut the door as loud snores began to resonate through the room.

A/N: If you've never experienced any extreme back pain, be grateful. I jammed two vertebra in my lower back a couple summers ago (yes, I was doing something stupid. What else are summers for?) and I still have days where just walking hurts. So, yeah, be good to your back! And the rest of you. It's the only you you'll ever have!!

Bye!


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Hey all. Okay, so this is set in season 7 as a tag to Reunion. Essentially, I'm extending the scene with Tony and Ziva in the bathroom. I would say that in general, that scene was one of the best in all of NCIS, and so, I'm actually a little nervous about touching it at all. Please, let me know what you think.

For Tony DiNozzo, the last few days felt like an earth shaking storm after months of drought; the land was dry and cracked, covered with dust and stagnate under the beating rays of an unrelenting, unforgiving sun. Now, that earth was overwhelmed with rain, wind, lightning. Where there was once a dry pool of dust, there was now a flooding river, racing forward with urgent energy, hurrying to a place that was as dark and mysterious as the clouds that emptied themselves of accumulated water.

That's what going to avenge Ziva David after four months of dry stillness felt like. Ziva had been dead, going down with the _Damocles, _and suddenly, almost before Tony was ready to admit to his hope that the report on the sunken ship was wrong, she was alive. Sure, she looked as though she'd felt death knocking on her door and didn't care; she was alive. Sure, she spent months captured and probably tortured beyond what a reasonable person would deem possible; but she was alive. Sure, she was sacrificed for a suicide mission by the one man who was supposed to love her unconditionally; but she was alive.

And now, after all of the pain, the heartache, the betrayal, the distrust, she was there with him, her lips on his cheek, trying so hard to convey apology and thanks in one simple, special, gesture. Tony would never tell her, tell anyone, what that kiss meant to him. It meant that she was alive and that she trusted him. That was what above all hurt Tony the most: Ziva stayed in Israel because she couldn't trust him. I ate him up to think that she had died in a shipwreck because somehow, he'd given her reason to doubt him. He would never tell anyone, but that kiss filled a hole in his heart; an empty space that no amount of alcohol could fill. Ziva David was alive and she trusted her partner, Tony DiNozzo. For once, a sense of peace, rather than tension, filled the air around them.

When Ziva stepped back from Tony there was a small smile on her lips. She had been so scared when she followed him into that bathroom. Terrified that he would push her away and never forgive her for her misplaced trust. When he didn't move and actually relaxed, if only slightly, when she kissed him was in itself promising. She knew that it would take more than a kiss on the cheek to make up for the past four months, but Ziva was ready to make that commitment. Tony saved her life and the only real way she could show her gratitude was a dedication to her new life, the life that because of him, she was now allowed to live.

She turned to walk away when she felt Tony touch her sleeve lightly. She turned back to him. He was visibly more relaxed in posture, but he was scratching his head as though he wanted to say something but was unsure of how to begin, much in the same way she had been earlier. She remained silent, allowing him the time he needed to gather his thoughts.

"I, uh. I have a um, question. I'm kind of nervous about asking I suppose." he said. She continued to look at him expectantly. As with the rest of their conversation, no one would ever know of what was said during this mens' room conversation. A literal Lock Box.

"Would you have really pulled the trigger?" he asked finally.

"You mean, would I have killed you." her sentence was a statement, not a question, but Tony answered anyway.

"Yeah. That roof top was...scary. Sure, I didn't show it. But I'd never seen you so mad. You've hurt me for less serious offenses." said Tony, his voice quiet and slow, providing her with the opportunity to cut in, interrupt at any time. She didn't.

"The rooftop. I am sorry about that." she said, looking down. They both knew that hers was a hardly sufficient answer, but both kept still. It was like tuning violin: if they turned too fast, the string would snap from tension. If they turned too slow they might never reach that perfect pitch that came with just the right amount of force on the string.

"Tony, I was angry. Furious. Everything was spinning out of control. I thought that I could have a brief...interlude with Michael while he was in town and then let him go back to Israel. I _did not _know why he was here or any of my father's orders to him. Then, before the situation could be handled, he was dead. Dead, and you killed him. You have no idea what that felt like: I was torn in two over my duty to Mossad and my desire to remain at NCIS, with you...and the team. Then we were back in Israel. My father was demanding my allegiance, proof of my loyalty. I felt so...lost, betrayed. My father _pretended _to be the source of comfort I needed. On that rooftop, Tony, you gave me an open shot. I was so twisted with anger that I took it. I hurt you, threw you on the ground when you could not fight back. You let me get out some of my anger." she paused taking a deep breath. She'd begun pacing and gesturing with her hands, and now she paused, closing her eyes.

"That said...I would not have pulled the trigger. I believe that I would never be able to." she stopped there. Her emotions were running high. There was so much that she would have liked to tell him, but there was just no way, not yet. She was not ready to even begin to think about handling all of her thoughts and emotions, let alone express them. Tony, however, seemed satisfied. He looked at her, a sad smile on his face.

"You know, being tossed down on that rooftop was a lot less painful than watching you stay behind on that tarmac." he said softly, leaning up against the sink. Ziva just nodded, unable to really speak.

"You know, it's your turn to ask a question. If you want you know." he said. Ziva smiled softly, remembering their private game that was often their companion on many an assignment.

"What was it like here...while I was gone?" she'd wanted to ask what it was like for him, but that was much more forward than she could afford to me. Tony let out a long, slow breath.

"Honestly? At first it was...boring. You have to understand, initially, we thought you were safe, or at least as safe as you could be. It was so damn boring. It felt almost surreal; life continued on and it was almost as though it had no right to. We just kept working. Probie and I became good friends. We had a lot of long talks during the summer." Tony kept it to himself that most of those talks involved a guilt ridden, miserable Tony and a silently suffering McGee. "We tried to find a replacement. It was actually kinda fun if only because we got to scare away a whole bunch of women. None of them were you." he said, grinning. Then his grin faded, his eyes growing distant, remembering a dark troubled time.

"When you were...when it was reported there were no survivors, life kind of froze. It was one thing for you to be in Israel and not talking to us and another thing entirely for you to be...Well, it didn't feel right. Hence our escapade into the desert." there was so much Tony felt that he couldn't say. He wasn't even close to being able to deal with all of his raging thoughts and emotions and to let them spill out just then would have been confusing to both him and Ziva. It just might shatter the eggshells they were both metaphorically treading on. Luckily for Tony, Ziva seemed satisfied. After a moment she grinned.

"How many replacements did you go through?" she asked, finally meeting his eyes. Tony let out a relived sigh, a gasp of laughter. He sauntered towards the bathroom door, throwing it open. Just before he stepped outside, he threw her a glance over his shoulder.

"How many ways can you kill be with a paperclip?" and then he was gone.

A/N: Okay: It wasn't very long, at least not compared to previous chapters. But, I think I'm satisfied with it. No, I don't know how many replacements they went through at all. Anyway, let me know what you think.

PS: Happy Easter! Thank you God, for your Love. I know that I certainly don't deserve it.


	5. Chapter 5

Television has a way of embellishing the truth. On television, people are perfect, their skin smooth and flawless. On television, a pill can make pounds of fat evaporate without exercise. On television the good guys always win while the bad guys get carted off to jail. On television, the cops find the perp in an hour and stake outs are fun.

Reality was a horse of a different color. This particular stakeout was dragging out into its second week . Team Gibbs was looking to shut down a huge crime ring involving drugs and weapons stolen from the US Navy. The trick was to catch the next shipment of weapons and drugs arriving to the mechanic shop (the front for the operation) while it was being delivered by the Navy members who where two timing their country.

"You know for any other boss, simply knowing where the stuff is being taken would be enough." grumbled Tony, looking out a set of binoculars. The building they were stationed in was passable, however carried an odd musty smell, something that constantly bothered Tony.

"Well Leroy Jethro Gibbs is not any other boss. He is _the _boss,yes?" responded Ziva. She was lying on her back on the floor using her rolled up jacket as a pillow. Activity at the mechanic shop was low and Ziva was bored. Tony had yelled at her when she tried knife throwing practice and her gun could only be cleaned so much. She'd settled on twiddling her thumbs and staring at the old ceiling.

"Why can't we be hunting a murderer? I'm getting tired of the drug cases." muttered Tony again. Ziva fought the urge to sigh aloud, disguising the sound by clearing her throat.

"Do you want somebody to die Tony?" she asked.

"You know that's not what I mean. I just hate sitting still all the time." he said.

"Sitting still is not a bad thing once in a while. It gives you a chance to think clearly. When your mind is unoccupied by activity it has energy to think of deep things." she replied' her voice obviously distant.

"Is that so Ms. David? It sounds like you've had a substantial amount of experience with this sitting still business."

"I have. I laugh sometimes when people talk about Mossad as though we were killing people all the time. I have spent more hours waiting and surveying than Gibbs has spent working on his boats." she said. Tony snorted, continuing to survey the mechanic through his binoculars.

"What sort of situations have you had waiting around?" asked Tony after awhile, tossing his binoculars on the table and sitting in the office chair with a huff.

"Oh, so many DiNozzo. Lets see...I waited two days once in the pouring rain on the rooftop of an airport building. I was to snipe someone on board the plane when it arrived but it was delayed because of the storm. I had orders not to move though, so I waited it out. I got the job done but was sick for weeks after. There was one time I planted a bomb and it did not go off. My control officer was furious and I was sent in to make it work and if I died it would have been my own fault. I took me two weeks of surveillance to get the bomb to its spot and another two to figure out how to get back to the spot. It was a mess, but I got out alright." she said, still staring at the ceiling. "Of course, there was also Somalia. There was a lot of time to sit and...and think." Tony became very still, leaving Ziva room to talk if she wanted to.

"What about you Tony, any long extended wait periods?" she asked. Tony internally sighed. He knew it would take an act of God to get Ziva to talk about Somalia out of the blue.

"Me? Well my dear, I worked narcotics for a while. Stake outs are a given. Homicide was more fun in a sick, twisted way. We just hunted bad guys down and threw them in prison when we found them. You know one guy, killed his wife in a fit of rage. We found him a few hours after. When we pulled our guns on him, he wet himself he was so scared. Next instant he was flying at us with a knife. He stabbed one of my guys in the leg. Turns out he was clinically bipolar and had been off of his meds for about two weeks. His wife hadn't known we thought." Tony grew silent thinking about his Metro days. They'd been good days, but his NCIS ones were better.

"Would you ever go back?" asked Ziva.

"Would you?" asked Tony, looking down at her. She smirked.

"I do not believe I would." she said, a small smile in her voice. Tony cocked his head.

"Oh, do I detect some contentment with this statement of yours?" he asked. Ziva glanced at him and away.

"And if you do?" she asked.

"If I do...well, it's a nice change." he said, baiting her into revealing some details about Somalia and why she would not go back. She would not bite though.

"I would not go back to Israel Tony, not for the Mossad. Maybe one day, just to, you know, go back. But not for the Mossad. I meant what I said, for all the much I enjoy bothering you: you are my friend. I was wrong before. This is my home." Tony couldn't help but let worth a wide grin as he turned to check the monitors; Ziva could tell he was smiling anyway.

"There closing up shop for the night. We'll have to wait now. If anything happens it'll be in the dead of night. What do you wanna do?" he said.

"Well, since you will not let me throw my knives or clean my guns, we could play your questions game." she said. She would admit as much to Tony, but she rather liked learning more about him.

"I didn't realize you liked that one so much." he said, sitting Indian style next to her.

"Well, it is never the same, so it never gets boring." she said.

"Whose turn is it?" he asked.

"I do not remember Tony. I believe the last time we played, was before Paris." she said, intentionlly avoiding the fact the last time they played it was right after her arrival to NCIS after Somalia. She did not want to talk about Somalia, not now. Life had settled down for the most part. They'd had several interesting cases, what with the appearance of Damon Worth and Shannon's mother. But Ziva's life had settled down significantly. Any discussion of Somalia would pierce that little bit of insulation she'd built around her new life.

"You go first then." he said. In a small fit of childish exuberance, Tony lay his head down on Ziva's stomach. Ziva started in surprise, but decided it wasn't worth the effort to move him.

"Do you ever think about settling down and having a family? You know, the whole American dream." she asked, truly curious. He had the potential to be the settling type, maybe even the father type, if he worked at it.

"Well, yeah, I definitely think about it. It's generally a nice thought you know. I like the idea of marriage, even if plenty of the people around me got it screwed up. I know that marriage was never the problem for Gibbs and my dad for instance. They're the problems. My dad thinks women are trophies to be won and Gibbs...well, Gibbs never really got over Shannon did he?" he said thoughtfully. He was being honest. Marriage didn't scare him, it was the being married part of it.

"No he didn't. Can you imagine loving someone that much?" replied Ziva her mind pondering the possibility.

"I don't think I can imagine it. But, honestly? I kinda want that. I know I'm not the most steady guy, heck maybe a little bit wary of commitment," Ziva snorted at this, "okay, I fear commitment. But I wonder sometimes, what it would feel like to love someone so much that if they were gone, your whole life would be destroyed. I think I've come close to understanding it, real close." he paused thinking of the previous summer. He knew what it felt like to have your life destroyed by somebody's absence. "As far as the rest of it, sure. The kids, the dogs, the white picket fence, the bike rides and the barbeques in the summer? Yeah, I'd like that someday I think. I want to be the dad that my father never was for me." Ziva nodded, content with his answer. He turned his head toward her face and she looked down her nose at him. He let forth a grin.

"What Tony?" she asked slightly self conscious.

"Nothin. You just look funny from this angle." Ziva lightly tapped his forehead as he laughed.

"Okay okay, not more hitting. My question for you Ms. David. When was the first time you realized daddy wasn't perfect?" Ziva was silent and Tony could literally feel her body tense up. The last time he'd asked this question, he hadn't expected her to answer. That was different now. He knew the question was bound to have a rough answer, but he was hoping that Ziva trusted him enough to answer.

"I was fourteen I think when it truly registered in my mind." she started. "Sure, there were plenty of missed birthdays and angry words, but he was serving the country so it was always excusable. He was never really there, so I got used to it. But there was this one time." she paused. Her hand had started slowly smoothing his hair back, seemingly on its own volition. Tony was about to comment on the matter when he decided he actually didn't mind all that much. Her hand was gentle and Tony had noticed over the years that her hands need to be busy lest her mind overrun itself in thought. Plus it just felt good.

"This one time he called me up to his study. When I went up there he was working at his desk, as usual. He said that he'd heard that I was having some trouble in school. He was right of course, I was. I had gotten into a fight with a boy, Samuel Hulda. I told my father the story and the he asked me what I learned from it all. I said that I learned that fighting does not solve issues but compounds them. That was what me teacher had told me anyway. He slammed his fist on the table and his face got all red from anger. He began to yell at me. He said that my teachers were wrong, that sometimes fighting was the only way to solve problems. The next day..." she paused, shuddering as she remembered.

"Yeah?" asked Tony, gently urging her on.

"We drove into the desert, to a base camp. He told me that one day I would be Mossad and know the value of violence over diplomacy. He took me into the center of the camp. Two men were tied up and made to stand side by side. An officer stood before them with a gun. As the officer raised his gun, my father told me that the only way that those men would talk would be to understand that their lives were frail. Just then the officer flipped a coin. He shot and killed the man on the left. Instantly, the other man began to speak, begging for his life, spewing off information. My father looked at me, a hard, dissatisfied look on his face. He told me fighting and death were not pretty, but were far more efficient for getting work done than diplomacy. I knew then that my father was not a good man, to condone such madness." Ziva then grew silent, still stroking Tony's hair.

"That's terrible," he whispered, revolted at the thought that a fourteen year old Ziva was exposed to such atrocities.

"It was. But I would be a hypocrite to say that I did not live by that standard for a long time. I myself I am ashamed to have used that very same method of execution and information extracting. After awhile you no longer see people as people. I do not think it registered in my head that I was killing people with lives and family and friends until..." Ziva paused, catching herself. She was about to admit that she became truly sensitized to killing again when she pulled the trigger on Ari. But he didn't know she committed that murder and she did not want to volunteer that information.

"Until?" asked Tony, prodding.

"Until my brother was killed." was all she said.

"I see." he said noncommittally. Ziva couldn't resist the urge to ask another question.

"Tony, do you ever hold it against me that Ari was my brother and that I loved him?" she asked, somewhat dreading his answer. It had been five years since Kate had died and Ziva was hoping that perhaps that wound had healed enough for him to at least talk about it.

"Geez Ziva. Talk about a loaded question." He felt her tense up again. "Hold up there. That's not what I meant. First, of all, I don't hold a grudge against you. That fact that you asked is a little disappointing to be honest. Do you sincerely think that I would do half the stuff I've done if I thought that you were personally responsible for Kate's death in any way?" he was demanding an answer and she knew it. He felt her stomach move in a sigh.

"No Tony, I do not. I did not mean to offend you." she said, feeling guilty.

"It's fine. You can't exactly pick your family, otherwise I think both of us would have chosen different dads. Mind you, I still hate Ari for killing Kate. That's a hurt that won't ever go away. I only met the terrorist Ari and so that's all he'll ever be to me. Even more than that, I hate your father for driving Ari to that point." he said, remembering the sorrow and hatred of the dark days following Kate's death.

"Ari was a good man, long before you met him. A good brother. He always watched out for me when we were growing up. You know, I think he kept me from becoming the fully fledged killing machine my father hoped for. You see, even early on, Ari hated my father and he made sure that I never followed his orders blindly. He saw from the beginning my father's twisted sense of ambition. I never truly saw it until last year I think." said Ziva thoughtfully.

"What are you saying Ziva? That if you had known your father was such a jerk you would have become a terrorist too?" asked Tony in disbelief.

"Who knows Tony? There was a time I thought that I would follow my brother to hell if it meant there was a chance to save him from himself." she said.

"You wouldn't have done what he did. No way. Do you think you could just kill without good reason? At least some mild provocation? Kate was just _standing _there and he shot her, just to piss Gibbs off. I honestly don't think you would have done the same. In fact, I think you'd be able to." Ziva lay silent, uncertain for a while of Tony's certainty. She'd killed many people in her life, but the question was if she did so because of the thrill or because she felt it would do some good. Tony sat up and looked at her.

"Ziva the fact is, Eli David controlled you like a puppet. We've only just recently managed to truly cut those strings. You were a different person than you are now, but even still, I have always known one thing about you and that is that you value life above death. Think about it: when you showed up you weren't pleased Kate was dead. Sure it was a pain that you wanted Ari kept alive, but the fact is you wanted him to live, to change. You were his control officer so you could protect him." Tony wasn't sure why he was so emphatic on the point, but he felt the need to get through Ziva's head that she was not her brother or her father and did not have the same disregard for life. She needed to be sure of that because otherwise she would always be trapped by her violent Mossad history.

"I have done some very bad things Tony. Dark things," she whispered looking into his eyes. He could see the shadows of a troubled past flit behind her eyes.

"But always on someone else's orders. You. Are. Nothing. Like. Those. Men." he said. She looked into his for a long time, finding only honest and sincerity. _If he can believe this, then perhaps I can too. _She thought to herself. Eventually she nodded at him.

"Perhaps you are right Tony." she said. Tony let forth a huge grin.

"Of course I am. God was feeling generous when he handed out brains." he said smugly getting to his feet to check the monitors. Ziva snorted.

"Oh I am sure that is the case. I will be sure to alert McGee of your superior mental status, I am sure he will be relieved to hear that you have just been playing stupid all these years." Tony rolled his eyes as he checked to monitors. No activity.

"Well, no one is coming. Why don't you catch some shut eye and I'll take the first watch. You seem cozy enough already." he said with a grin. Ziva stuck her tongue out at him, but shut her eyes. Tony watched he for awhile after that, marveling at how it was possible for her to manage to find happiness with all of the emotional baggage she'd been carrying for so long. The woman asleep on the floor never ceased to amaze him and he decided that perhaps that wasn't so bad a thing. Not a bad thing at all.

A/N: Btw, this in no way reflects my actual opinion about Mossad. This is just an interpretation of what Mossad has come to mean for these characters. Actually, Mossad is pretty cool. If you've never looked it up you should. It was created in the late forties as an organization dedicated to tracking down and prosecuting enemies of Israel. At the time, those enemies were primarily former Nazis who had fled Europe as Germany fell to the Allies. Sorry, rabbit trail, but yeah.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Hey there. Here's another random one shot in the series of many. Please forgive any grammatical errors or typos. It's late here. Please please, tell me what you think :) (Tag to Guilty Pleasure with references to Recoil and Framed Up).

Tony had never been one for excessive exercise, but for the past few days, it seemed to be the only thing that calmed him down.

It'd been four days since they'd closed their latest case with Holly Snow but his encounter in the hotel room with Charlotte Cook rattled him. For the first time he could remember, he'd been nervous about meeting a woman. A woman intent on seducing him.

Anthony DiNozzo had never experienced trouble with the ladies. Well, perhaps a dry spell here and there, especially after the departure of one Dr. Jeanne Benoit. But things were different. Jeanne had been out of the picture for two years and he'd definitely been with at least some other women since then. Well, at least he pretended as such. For the entire summer he'd had only one woman on his mind and most if not all his thoughts regarding her had less to do with the bedroom and more to do with whether she was alive.

And now with said woman back in his life, his mind told him that the wide world of one night stands and noncommittal encounters had opened it's doors to him once again. However, his body or his heart seemed to protest. He didn't pick up women. When he went to the bar, it was with the team for after case drinks. He spent his weekends alone or hanging out with old friends from Metro.

And then Holly Snow shows up and it's suddenly his job to be the smooth operator. He'd never been so terrified of encountering a woman in his life. And suddenly as it started, Charlotte Cook was arrested and his ordeal was over.

However it didn't feel over to him. He's begun in a very short time to wonder what could possibly be wrong with him. Was his confidence shot? Was he out of shape? Was he holding out for something? Was he – God forbid – getting old?

Unfortunately for Tony, he couldn't exactly pinpoint the problem and the only solution seemed to be excessive exercise to get his mind off the situation. He became a regular at the NCIS gym and was present.

In this particular moment, it was late after work and Friday night. The day was full of paperwork and that more than anything drove him stir crazy. He'd stayed after work and was now entering his sixth mile on a treadmill.

His mind wrapped up in himself, he didn't notice when the gym door opened. He did however notice when a towel rat-tailed his rear. He yelped, jumping into the air and loosing his stride completely. He fell onto the treadmill and of course being Anthony DiNozzo and by effect much too suave for the emergency stop cord to be attached to his shirt, was hurled backward by the speeding belt and deposited on the hard industrial carpeting in a groaning heap.

Furious and burning red with humiliation, righted himself and looked for his attacker, only to find Ziva David, a towel hanging from her hand and barely containing her mirth.

"Excuse me?" said Tony looking at her with disbelief. His indignant tone caused Ziva to laugh harder. "May I ask what the unwarranted attack on my butt was for?" he said. Ziva just continued to laugh.

"I am...so sorry. I just came...in to use the punching bag. And well.. I just couldn't resist." she gasped out through her laughter. Tony scowled and made a show of inspecting his right elbow which received an almost invisible skin burn. Slowly he got to his feet.

"Perhaps you can file for Workman's Compensation." said Ziva, her laughter finally dying down.

"Har har, David. This could have been serious. What if I'd broken a bone?" He said pointing to his elbow. Ziva sashayed up to Tony, fixing him with smoldering eyes that made his mouth go dry.

"Did Special Agent DiNozzo get an ouch? You want me to kiss it better?" she asked staring at him dead on. Tony was swiftly becoming intoxicated with the scent of her and her close proximity made his heart hammer in nervousness and excitement. Still, he managed to answer with reasonable confidence.

"If you must Ms. David. As I recall, you were the one who found me irresistible." he raised his eyebrow provocatively. It was incredible; moments ago he'd been stressing over the fact that he couldn't bring himself to pick up women and now he was shamelessly flirting with his partner – _his partner – _of all the women he should treat with a caution sign, she was the one for which his DiNozzo charm flowed naturally.

Ziva gave him a small smile and leaned in close to him, their faces separated by less than an inch of air. Tony froze in place. Ziva's smiled widened as she brought up a hand to his cheek and gave him a light, but substantially firm pat.

"Perhaps some other time." she said and with a final smile, pulled away from him, making her way to the punching bags. "Besides, your elbow was not what I mouse tailed." she called over her shoulder. Tony stood rooted in place for awhile before shaking his head and returning to reality. He turned to follow her.

"It's rat-tailed by the way." he called after her. She shrugged her shoulders.

"The fact is that you were caught unaware by some semblance of rodent anatomy. Speaking of which, what are you doing down here?" Ziva stretched a small bit before throwing an experimental punch at the suspended punching bag. Tony leaned against another bag - a stationary one - as he watched her.

"I decided I need to loose a couple of pounds. What's your excuse?" he said, deflecting her question.

"Honesty is part of the game rules. And I come down here most everyday for at least a little while after work." She threw two more punches in quick succession.

"Why don't you were gloves?" asked Tony attempting to ignore her reference to their game.

"Because you do not use gloves in a real fight. Stop evading." she began to take a series of punches interspersed with kicks. Tony sighed.

"You really want to know?" he asked, fearing her answer. She paused for a breath of time before continuing.

"Not if you really do not to tell me Tony," she panted out. Tony was silent for awhile. Talking would make for the most awkward conversation ever, but continued silence ran the risk of driving a wedge into their trust. A small wedge, but a wedge nonetheless. Not to mention talking about his current feelings with Ziva would put her in a "just friends" category. And Tony wasn't sure he wanted her to be just a friend.

"Honestly, it's a little embarrassing. The whole thing with...Holly Snow. It's been on my mind. I just, I dunno I shut down when I had to be the "john". It's not like I don't like women."

"Oh trust me DiNozzo, you have alerted us all to how much you love women." interrupted Ziva.

"Again, your humor is astounding," replied Tony sarcastically. "Anyway, it's been bothering me. I just feel like something wrong with me. I can't do flings anymore. I seem to turn more women off and away rather than the more desirable outcome."

"Nothing is wrong with you Tony. You are simply growing up. Your mind wants freedom but your heart needs commitment." she said simply, continuing to kick and punch. For some reason her response irritated him.

"Who made you the authority on what my heart needs, huh?" he asked, letting his irritation show. Ziva just shrugged, entirely unphased.

"I am just making an observation Tony. Ever since the La Grenouille case you seem more...I do not know, you just never went on about your new conquests like before. Stability is a good thing Tony. Do you not think that one night stands are somewhat juvenile?" Her answer didn't appease him a bit.

"So now I'm old. So then tell me this Miss Stability: weren't you, by your own "observation" being juvenile when you met Micheal Locke?" Ziva had just taken a rather ferocious kick at the punching bag and his question caught her by surprise. She lost her balance momentarily, supported on only one leg and that instance was enough time for Newton's Laws of Motion to kick in. The punching bag caught Ziva full in the stomach, knocked the air out of her, and sent her flying into her own unceremonious heap on the floor.

Instantly Tony's previous irritation was gone. He felt guilty as sin as Ziva lay on the mat gasping for air. He went to her side.

"Shoot, Ziva I'm really sorry. I told you, the whole Holly Snow thing has me bent out of shape and saying stupid things. I'm really sorry. Are you alright?" He helped her sit up as she began to gain control of her breathing. Finally, she spoke.

"You are right," was what she said. Tony's eyes went wide.

"Look, just cause I'm in a crumby mood-" he started.

"Tony, shut up." she said. Tony closed his mouth.

"You are right. I was irresponsible with Locke, stupid. _Juvenile. _I regret that encounter, but I know the situation would have been worse without it. You see Locke was someone who I did not have to explain myself to and that was attractive. I could let everything out in front of him and it would not matter because I knew I would likely not see him again after a time." she said looking Tony in the eye.

"You could have come to me." were the first words that popped out of his mouth. He almost took them back before he realized he truly meant it. Ziva smiled ruefully.

"If it had happened now, I probably would have. My perception on life has changed quite a bit since then. I worry less about some of the things I used to. You have also proven that you are as loyal as a Bernard dog and so it is easier to trust you than it used to be." Tony smiled at that.

"It's a St. Bernard Ziva." he said.

"What does a Catholic saint have to do with any of this?" she asked, genuinely confused. Tony laughed a little.

"It's the name of the dog Ziva." Ziva shook her head at another one of the many irritating American components.

"There is nothing wrong with you Tony. Just think about what I said." She stood to her feet and began walking toward the womens' locker room.

"Just remember, it is always a five if you shave." Tony's eyes clouded in confusion for a moment before they alighted in amusement and laughter.


	7. Chapter 7

Tony stared through the glass as the once constant beeping from the monitor went silent. He stood there, praying, hoping that he was hallucinating, wanting so badly for the sound of the beeping to begin again. Strange how on other occasions, the sound had annoyed him. Now, he'd never long for anything more than he longed for that sound.

He couldn't explain his feelings, not in the least. He'd fallen in love – yes, love – with a woman who he'd only seen on television, who had only known him for the span of twelve hours. A bystander would have said it was infatuation; Tony longing for a woman with real class after the fiasco with the barista. Besides, Dana Hutton was all of the beauty and professionalism Tony claimed he wanted.

But reality was much more simple than that, much more sterile. The fact was that she was a beautiful woman who needed help and Tony, ever the knight in shining armour, could not resist the urge to try and help her. The nobility was in his nature. He could play off his one night stands as totally meaningless, and to him they really were. But if any of those women had ever truly needed his help, he would have, while kicking and screaming, gone to the rescue, regardless of the possibility of failure.

Tony thought to himself as he stared through the windows were the doctors who had made Dana Hutton's final hours so peaceful now detached the various machines hooked up to her. _What a stupid formality. They knew she wouldn't last the night; she didn't need to be hooked up to all that crap. Well, DiNozzo old boy, you've done it again. This is becoming a bad habit: we gotta stop opening ourselves up for heartache. You always seem to be the one to get screwed. You're getting too old for this boy._

Tony was growing angry with himself the more he pondered, a self-loathing welling up inside of him. He hated that all the women he saw himself having anything resembling a chance with ended up leaving him somehow. He also hated the fact that he kept trying to fill that void with one night stands, constantly putting himself out there as a playboy, unwilling to commit. What he really wanted was someone to really love, someone to love him. He hated being afraid of commitment. Ziva was right: _What could I possibly offer the professional, beautiful woman I dream of when all she'll see is a playboy sprouting gray hairs? God, I'm becoming my father._ He was at the point where his mind was about to explode in a fit of anger and sorrow when he felt a presence next to him.

"What are you doing here?" he almost spat. He was beginning to lose the fight with self-control. Luckily for him, Ziva decided to ignore his rudeness. In fact she was expecting it.

"I came to see how you were you doing." she said, also staring through the glass. The doctors were making final notes and preparing to transport the body to the morgue.

"How am _I _doing? Geez Ziva, that woman just died and you care more about me? You know, I was beginning to think..." he cut off shaking his head.

"What?" she asked, her voice low but combative. She could take so much of Tony's nonsense.

"Nothing." he muttered.

"Say it. It'll obviously make you feel better. Go on, say it!" she said, knowing that whatever would come would hurt, but she was willing to endure. Tony gave in, his anger turning him into an ugly monster.

"I was beginning to think that maybe you weren't heartless, but I guess the warrior in you won't allow it. You're just as stoic as ever. No feelings, not one. Death doesn't affect you does it?" he responded in a harsh whisper staring through the window as the gurney was rolled out. He didn't follow it with his eyes; he couldn't.

Ziva on the other hand, was trying very hard not to scream at him. She was prepared for his words to hurt, to cut her, but that still didn't make the pain any less. _He is obviously not thinking clearly, because if he was and he was responsible for his words, I would have killed him already, _she told herself taking a deep breath.

"I came to see if you were okay and wanted to talk about it. I under-,"

"Understand? You don't _understand. _How could you possibly? You don't know what it's like t-t-t-to _love_ someone you've never known and then never have the opportunity to." Tony knew he was being cruel and insufferable, but he didn't care. He was angry and it was going to get out somehow. He expected some sort of angry response from Ziva, but what he didn't expect was a smack to the back of his head. The difference between this and a Gibbs slap was that Ziva had hit him with something soft, not her hand. He turned to look at her. Her eyes were flashing with suppressed rage, but her voice remained a whisper.

"You know what DiNozzo? I am going to leave. When you are ready to talk, my door is open. But do not, _do not dare, _say that I do not understand." she snarled. She shoved the soft material into his chest making him step back and with a final glare, she was gone.

Tony looked down at what she had given him and swore aloud. In his hands was a bright orange beanie.

_Later_

Tony stood staring at Ziva's door, unsure of what to do. It was late, really late. He'd been mentally running over everything he'd said to Ziva and concluded two things: The first, he was a complete asshole. The second, Ziva was probably plotting to kill him. In fact, he was surprised she hadn't disposed of him at the hospital. Heck, she could have made it look like an accident on the spot. Or maybe she wasn't scared of prison and she would have elicited as much pain from him before ending his little life. _You're rambling DiNozzo._

Screwing up courage from somewhere, he knocked on the door softly. He waited. And waited. And waited. No response. He sighed, ready to turn away when something she said popped into his head. _"When you are ready to talk, my door is open." _Hoping and dreading the idea of her door being unlocked, Tony tried the handle. It gave, allowing the door to swing open.

A soft flowing sound wafted over Tony as he stepped into the apartment. The sound was that of the piano, playing softly. The notes were at first soft and rapid. Gradually, the volume swelled and the intensity grew. The notes were still fast, though now the piece had reached its full height, like a wave just about to crash onto the shore. In a rapid sweep of motion, the wave crashed, raining down in arpeggios and scales, the crescendos and decrescendos easing the flow of sound. Finally the music was calm again, singing softly into the night, its intricate melodies fading into sparse chords, each important and unique in its own way. Finally, nothing. Tony stood still for a moment, the magic of the music still ensnaring him. It was when another, more familiar piece began that Tony found the courage to walk forward.

Tony didn't speak but rather sat down on the easy chair located in Ziva's family room turned piano room. She continued playing the Moonlight Sonata, not looking up, but Tony was sure that she knew he was there. He simply sat there, basking in the sorrowful chords that washed over him, working him over. Each chord was like a gear slowly unwinding him. He felt tension that he'd been building up since being at Gibbs' house, tension he didn't even know he'd acquired, seep out of his muscles. The relief allowed his emotions to well up instead and before he could stop himself, tears began to eek down his cheeks. He couldn't help it. Furthermore, he wasn't sure he wanted to.

As the piece came to an end, he began to wipe his face with his hands. The room was dark, but Ziva could see the tears reflecting in the moonlight.

"It is okay to cry Tony," she whispered, placing her hands underneath her thighs on the piano bench, looking down at the keys.

"DiNozzo men don't cry," he muttered his voice thick. Ziva couldn't help but smile softly at his ever present stubbornness.

"You are allowed to Tony. I promise I will not tell McGee." she said. Tony chuckled, his cheeks still wet, but the tears slowed. He sniffed as his red rimmed nose sought to betray him.

"You know, when I was a kid, I used to get in trouble for crying. My dad would always tell me to take it like a man or stay out of his sight while I acted "like a sniveling little girl". And well, I was six years old. I wanted my dad to love me." Ziva's heart broke with pity over her friend's demented childhood. It was incredible, the similarities between their lives.

"I know what it feels like to want, to need to be loved by your father." she said, empathizing completely with him.

"I bet you never cried thought, right? You're Ziva, the Mossad warrior ninja princess." he said looking at her. Ziva shook her head, a sad smile gracing her features.

"No Tony. I cried, though I learned that such displays of weakness always came to the attention of Eli David. So, I found times and places where I could cry alone, away from the world. Tony, I still cry."

"You've never cried in front of me before." he pouted playfully. It was a sorry attempt, because his tears made his voice break and sound thick. Still, Ziva played along.

"What, and risk you seeing my face all blotchy?" she replied.

"The term is splotchy. I'm sure you look beautiful when you cry though." he said, a shade of the typical DiNozzo smile peeking through.

"Now you are buttering me up Tony. I do not think you will succeed. Tell me what happened at the hospital tonight Tony." her tone grew serious at the last statement and Tony was rendered back to pitiful puppy mode.

"Ziva, I'm so sorry. I was an ass back there." he started. However, she interrupted.

"That was not the question I asked Tony. We will address that I am sure, but first, what happened at the hospital?" she asked firmly. Tony let out a deep sigh.

"I stayed with her for several hours. At first, she told me stories of going overseas to pursue stories. After a while though, she got tired, so I started talking instead. I told her stories about us, the team at NCIS. I told her about Ducky and Abby and Palmer. I just kept talking. After awhile, she was unconscious. That's when I decided to leave her in peace. I went to wait outside the room. And then you...showed up. I said some awful things." he said, glancing up at her. She nodded slowly.

"Why Tony?" she pressed gently.

"I was mad at myself. For always falling in love with girls I can't have. I just...I dunno Ziva. I was so mad that she was dead. Like Kate, like Paula, like Jenny. And well Jeanne? I'm dead to her. And you, you almost -" his tears were falling again. Ziva turned to face him, their knees almost touching. She took his hands in hers.

"Tony," she said softly. He looked up sniffing, looking defeated.

"I am alive because of you. Now, I am sorry, but that is all I can say about that. I am not ready to talk about Somalia yet, but, because of you I will have that chance. Oh Tony." she said. She placed his hand softly on his cheek. At this point, Ziva's kindness was overwhelming. He began to cry, sobs shaking his frame. Ziva pulled him into an embrace. Tony buried his face in the crook of her neck and just cried. Ziva held him, rubbing circles into his back. After a while, she began to softly hum a lullaby, one that her mother would hum to her the few times she was allowed to console her daughter.

After what seemed like years, Tony finally sat back up. He gave Ziva a slightly watery smile.

"I should probably head on home. It's like, two in the morning." he said. Ziva shook her head.

"No. Stay." he raised an eyebrow at Ziva suggestively. Ziva lightly smacked his arm. "On the couch DiNozzo. I guarantee mine will be good to your back." Tony smiled as Ziva stood.

"Thanks Ziva." he said, truly grateful. Ziva smiled.

"Any time Tony."


End file.
